creepypastafandomcom-20200222-history
My Friend Jack
My Friend Jack I never got along too well with the other children. I never fought or anything like that, in fact, my elementary school teachers would probably tell you I was the perfect kid: real smart, very polite, maybe a little shy but nothing too out of the ordinary. But yeah, I just never got along too well with the other kids. They just didn’t like me. I don’t know why, I guess they thought I was weird. It upset me when I was very young but by the second grade I had learned to accept it. I had a small group of friends and they were the only ones I talked to. We were all sort of out-casts, but we held each other up. Anyway, I learned over time that I didn’t want to talk to the other kids; they were all too loud, too gross, too stupid, etc. Why would I want to talk to these people when I had nearly perfect friends? There was Isaac. He was real smart. Sometimes I had to cheat off him on math tests. No one ever noticed though. It was probably Isaac’s fault that I had straight A’s, but he was so nice about it that I never felt bad about cheating. I had a friend named Brittany as well. She was so pretty. She was prettier than I could ever be. I tried not to get too jealous though. I really couldn’t get jealous, she was so sweet and never held it over us, though I’m sure she knew how pretty she was. She was like a cross between Barbie and a Disney princess. She was the best singer I had ever heard too. I don’t know why she never joined the school choir. There was Joan too, she was a little rebellious, but still really sweet. She was great at sports too. I played soccer with her out on the playground. I tried to pick her for my team, because the team she was on always won. Other kids always complained I was hogging the ball all for myself, but I wasn’t. Honestly, it was really mean, the way they pretended like my friends weren’t there. You know what they say though, kids can be cruel. We never let it get to us. Me, Joan, Isaac, and Brittany were always there for each other. My best friend though, was Jack. Jack was, everything. He was amazing, and wonderful. Jack was everything I wanted to be, and also everything I wanted in a friend. Jack even came over to my house all the time. He was like a brother to me. I don’t think my parents liked Jack very much though. Even when I told them he was coming over they would never set out a placemat for him at the dinner table, and then they glared at me when I went to go get him some food. It was really rude of them. It didn’t matter though, me and Jack were best buds. We did everything together. We played together, talked together, did homework together. We had sleep overs all the time. We really were great friends, and Jack was so great at everything. I have to admit, I always had a little crush on Jack. He was just so amazing. The real bullying began in the sixth grade though. There were always people who were mean, but nothing too serious in elementary school. Middle school changed everything though. Joan, Brittany, and Isaac all went to a different middle school than I did. Jack didn’t though. He stayed with me, and middle school really drove us even closer. We had to be there for each other, no one else was. One time in seventh grade, this older kid was calling me all sorts of names. Jack stood up for me. It actually got really nasty. My school didn’t have a lot of fights, but I guess Jack wasn’t going to let that bully do that to me. He just knocked the kid’s block off. The bully, I never did learn his name, was beat up real bad. He was on the ground, all bloody. It was bad. The school administrators, they thought it was me. I couldn’t believe it. They thought I beat up the bully, not Jack, even though he was nearly twice my size. I wasn’t very big, or very strong. I wasn’t going to tell them the truth though. After Jack stood up for me like that I couldn’t get him in trouble. He stopped the bully for me, it only seemed fair that I take the punishment for him. As well as getting suspended, which upset my parents greatly, the school also made me talk to the counselor. The counselor was an idiot, but that wasn’t a surprise. Everyone knows school counselors are just psychology majors that were too dumb to get a real job so instead the go talk to kids and tell them what’s wrong with them. The counselor was obviously tired of talking to kids who were having relationship drama or stressed out about homework. He seemed so excited, so eager to talk to the kid who was fighting. It was a little sickening really. Anyway, this poor excuse for a counselor said that I had some serious problems and told my parents I needed to see a real psychologist. The real psychologist, as it turned out, wasn’t actually any better than the school one. He wasn’t very smart either. And he was totally paranoid, or maybe just a good scam artist. Either way, he told my parents all sorts of psychological BS that essentially meant I now had regular appointments with him. He told my parents I had all sorts of fancy disorders with fancy Latin names that I never bothered to remember. He kept trying to put me on drugs. I refuse to take them though. I’m not crazy and I don’t need drugs. I asked Jack, he agreed it was a bad idea. In fact, he seemed to be even more opposed me taking them than I was, saying they will change how I am and that he doesn’t want me to change. They kept taking me to see him though. Dr. Simon, the psychologist, wanted to know everything about me. He asked a lot of questions about my life. A lot of his questions were really personal, he wanted to know about my friends, my eating habits, and my non-existent sex life. How can an old man ask a middle school girl about her sex life and not be considered creepy? He was weird, but my parents made me go. He always seemed especially interested in Jack too, when I met him, how often we hung out, what he was like. He wanted to know all sorts of things about Jack. That too, was weird. I was starting to wonder if my psychologist was some sort of pedophile who was planning to kidnap me and Jack together or something. He never did though. In fact, Dr. Simon is the reason I’m writing this in the first place. He thought it might be therapeutic or something. I still think he’s an idiot. I’m not crazy but his fancy words make my parents think I am. But I don’t think he’s a pedophile after all though, just a weirdo and an idiot. I think that’s an improvement of opinion. He is definitely not helping my mental state though, quite the opposite. Constantly being told I’m crazy is starting to drive me... well, crazy. And the bullying in high school is even worse than it was in middle school. I think I might be getting depressed. Dr. Simon has ridiculously expensive pills for that too. My parents tried getting me to take them, but I won't do it. Even if I end up killing myself I would rather die as me than live as some drugged up zombie. Whatever those pills do to make me happy is something unnatural, something that isn’t me. Still, I wish I could get help. Jack does everything he can. He keeps telling me I’m beautiful, and smart, and strong, and blah blah blah. I know he’s lying though, I’ve never been good at anything. He’s good at everything. He doesn’t understand. Joan was the athletic one, and Issac the smart one, and Brittany the pretty one. Me and Jack, we were opposites. He has always been all of those things, handsome, smart, athletic, everything. I’m none of those things. I was weak, ugly, and it seems like my grades were dropping very day. I just want to die. I’ve told Jack I’m suicidal. No one else knows. I think Dr. Simon might suspect something, but no one knows. He keeps telling me not to. He’s working so hard to keep me alive. I think he’s wasting his time though. I’m going to do it soon. I’ve tried so many times, but I keep chickening out before I actually do. I can load the gun, but I can’t pull the trigger. I can steal the pills but not swallow them, tie the noose but I can’t quite get myself to to put my neck in. I can’t even kill myself right. I am so bad at everything. I hate myself. Jack keeps telling me to stop, but he still doesn’t think I should take the medicine. I’ve started listening to him more and more. I don’t have anyone else left. He truly wants to help me. No one can help me now though. At least, not the way he wants to help me. I just need help dying. That’s all I want, but I can’t do it. I am so weak. It’s terrible. I hate myself. I’m such a coward. I just need to do it, but I can’t. Would Jack help me with this? I’m going to have to beg him, but maybe Jack could pull the trigger for me. I need help, and there’s no one else I can trust. Maybe Jack would help me leave this world. I hope so. I just need to show him how bad it is. Oh Jack is so wonderful. He didn’t want to do it, but he said he would. He agreed to help me. I just wanted to write this last entry to this... what is this? It doesn’t feel like a journal, or a diary. Is this my autobiography? The story of my life? Whatever, it doesn’t matter now. I’m done with this shit world. Jack is coming over here. Yes, that’s perfect, the knife right there. Jack had me tape my mouth so I don’t unintentionally scream. I don’t want to get him in trouble, not after he agreed to do this huge favor for me. I have to talk him through this, so I’ll just do that here. I’ll type it out. Yes, Jack, I told you this is what I want. Yes I’m sure. No I’m not scared. You know me too well. Yes, of course I’m nervous. But I want you to do this. Please. No, don’t leave. Please, I need this. Thank you. Okay, just put the point right on my heart and push inward. Yes! I’m sure. Okay, I’ll hold the knife too. Together? On the count of three, okay? Jack, please! You promised! I need you to help me. Okay. I’m going to start typing the countdown, then we push in together. If there is anything on the other side Jack, I’ll see you there. Have a nice life. 1 2 Don’t lie to me Jack. Not now. Someone like you would never love me. It was really nice knowing you. You were the best friend I could ever have. Please don’t miss me. Find someone who’s good enough for you, because I’m not. Please don’t cry. I don’t want tears to be my last sight. I really need to go Jack. I can’t stay here anymore. I don’t belong here. Okay, we’re going to try counting one more time. Please Jack, I need you to do this. We’ll do it together, but I need you to help me. I’m not strong enough on my own. Okay, together now. 1 2 3 Category:Mental Illness Category:Diary/Journal